Final Fantasy 13: Crystal Dreams
by BADOLDETYME
Summary: A re-imagining of FFXIII: When all you've ever known is to move forward, what can you hold on to? A tale weaved of obsession and redemption, to fight, to flee, never-ending searching. The struggle between Man and gods, to protect humanity or the cosmos.
1. The Beginning

I don't own Final Fantasy 13.

**Important Note: **I want to keep this brief. Once again, I'd like to thank those who read my work. Unfortunately I can't crank out a chapter every other day like I used to. (Seven chapters in two weeks?) College has me wrapped around its finger and I'm often exhausted. Writing is a pleasure, but a pleasure rarely visited. However, I'm not too pleased with the rushing I did with conceiving those 7 chapters. That's why I'm starting over, slowly. The chapters will be shorter, it won't jump around as much, but it will be more thorough. I hope you give it a chance. To those of you who wish to read the old chapters, I'll have a _link_ in my _profile_. The premise will be the same, but worded differently. I'll be revisiting the characters and story when I have the time. Thanks.

**Final Fantasy XIII: Crystal Dreams** is a re-imagining, re-telling of the game, FF13. It will include the main cast, plus a few additional characters; some minor characters will have a more major role and it will also feature more of the less prominent Goddess. It will also include other FF references, mainly FF9, though I highly doubt this will affect your enjoyment of the story.

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Part I of III

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Chapter I

* * *

A clang sounded, alerting me to my fallen drink from the Service Tech, not long before it emitted a beep. It awoke me from my heavy thoughts, hovering like a heavy storm cloud. I knew I should feel excited, after all, it would be my fifteenth birthday and mother would have a cake waiting for me at home after school, but I just couldn't call forth the emotion. I opened my drink unenthusiastically, the fizz bubbling over, but I didn't notice. Dad would be leaving again, off playing hero with the Guardian Corps. He wouldn't be there to celebrate.

Serah was off in the distance, chatting with a group of friends. Serah was the social butterfly, popular; I, on the other hand, was the distant one, considered cool, but strangely enough, the sister to bet on. The bet usually involved how close one could get to me, usually surrounding crushes. It was annoying, because for some reason I both attracted and repelled people.

I had a group I hung out with, typically boys, and if they weren't boys, they were tomboys. Your standard girly girls repulsed me, ironically my sister could be considered the type, except she didn't titter at everything nor cover her mouth to whisper and direct gossip. My sister was straight forward; she was not afraid to confront, a soft voice with a bold heart, full of aspiration and forgiveness, something I envied. As for me, I was lazy and prone to bursting the vein in my forehead at the slightest teasing or inconvenience; it was something I was working on, something that was eventually mellowing out into apathy. I suppose this was the lesser of two evils.

As I watched Serah from afar, I pondered on what I would do after school, what did I even feel like doing for my birthday? It was just another day for me. It was always an on-going struggle for me to make a decision. Serah was nearly opposite. She loved history, loved architecture, a straight-A student at twelve, fussed and coddled over. I rarely received any advice, as it had become easier for my parents to think that I had it all figured out. Not only because I was reaching that age, but I hardly communicated, it was accepted, even expected that I was the founder of Laconism itself. My dry one-liners and my know-it-all attitude. The truth was though, words bothered me. I was scared. Words were special, veiled missiles that could detonate and send your world soaring or crashing into earth below, a sudden change. Everyone was expecting something, something grand in action or tone. At times, I didn't hesitate to tell others a sharp opinion, but it was ragged, stretched thin, a horn blowing in the wind, ineffectual.

"Oh Claire," They'd say, "Of course you'd say something like that."

Maybe they could see it in my face.

It was evening when we arrived home.

"Welcome home, girls," The usual greeting from mother. The chocolate birthday cake sat on the clear table, an open invitation to have conversation and congratulations. Sometimes this felt put on, an attempt to create a secure and happy home life. As mother hugged both Serah and I, offering us milk to go along with my chocolate celebration, I declined. I wanted to head upstairs and stick my head into one of my books.

"Hey now," A familiar voice greeted, "Are you sick?" A grunting laugh. It was dad's customary remark made just for me. A hidden bond between words.

"Dad?" It was a shock actually, to find my father still here. He was dressed in his official attire, his Silver Flame 41. magnum gunblade attached to the belt on his waist. He was ready to go, but here he was.

Serah immediately threw herself into his arms and he swung her around, smiling, but still his eyes were on me, waiting. My dad's patient look contrasted with mother's worried one.

"No," I responded, monotone, "Just surprised."

"If you were, I couldn't tell," He laughed again. When I didn't reply quickly enough, he added, "Aren't you gonna give your old man a hug? Serah's about to deflate me."

I gave a weak smile, but a compelling force drove me towards him, a voiceless urge, a need. I opened my arms and he took me in, stroking my pink hair, "Happy 15th, sweetheart." A rarity it was for me, this moment, at a time when I should have created more. It was the best birthday present and the last birthday I would treasure with him.

"Now, it's time for your dad to fight some monsters."

I looked up, an unusual look crossing his face, which should have bothered me. I expected my dad to fight something, it was his job. Without resistance, I let him go. He waved goodbye to us, grabbed his bag and made for the door. Serah left as happily as she had come, retreating to the back of the house to watch what was on the wide-screen Hologram Telecom. However, I was not so easily satisfied and snuck over to the sounds of mumbled exchange.

"...I don't know. Tonight's a big one...said PISCOM will be involved. Apparently there was a breach at Hanging Edge, some of the remaining...make it here, we'll cut them off."

"I don't like you going out there...you do what you have to do. Just be safe and come home."

I watched as mother embraced dad with trembling arms, "Bodhum loves you and I love you."

He smirked, promising to return. He reminded her to take her medicine as he kissed her cheek, holding her one last time before he walked outside. Mother caressed herself, as if she tried to hold herself together, staring at the door. It was a constant reminder of the dangers he faced, a reminder of what we could lose. She walked away eventually, I didn't know where she disappeared off to, probably somewhere she'd feel safe. Mother could be tender at times, she wanted to be strong, but nobody ever allowed her to be, for she had been besieged since birth by a immune disorder which left her fragile. She didn't tell me, she wouldn't ever confess to such things. In that regard, I was a lot like my mother. Dad told me of her sickness and her desire to be the perfect mom for us after she learned she would never have any more children.

"_It drives her forward._ _So don't be too hard on her._"

On the day dad revealed these insights to me, I was thirteen and he didn't stay long on the subject. In his last few minutes before his departure for the standard Guardian Corps patrol, he told me amidst chuckling the revelation of his and her meeting, but it soon turned into something else, something I'd never forget.

"I was the brat out of High School who didn't open the door for her. We both were at a rebel party and she didn't look very rebellious, to the contrary actually. A week later I was head-over-heels." He recounted, sighing, "I suppose she found comfort and breathing room from me." He bit his lip thoughtfully as he turned to me, a habit I was starting to form, "Claire, I'm going to ask something of you, all right?"

I nodded, though I tried not to look over eager.

He brushed his dark red hair back, looking unsure, "If I'm..." I suppose he was searching for the right words to say, I knew what was coming, some A-Bomb of a sentence, "If I'm not around...I want you to take care of this family, take care of your mother. I worry sometimes of what would happen... your mother would die being trapped in some infirmary..."

"Don't say such things," I told him, holding back the panic that started to leak. I was afraid my heart would rupture at any second.

"I'm sorry," He said, holding his hand up,"I won't talk about it ever again. Promise." He patted my shoulder, "Gotta go, kiddo."

At the time, his smile caused me to fight back tears, but now...I reached up, feeling a wetness that creeped out my eyes. I found myself standing in front of the door my father had previously left just five minutes ago. I came to a decision right then and there. I was going to sneak out.


	2. Plumbing Through

Author's Note: Guess who the blonde girl is?

* * *

Part I  


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Chapter 2

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The smell was almost overwhelming. That was one of the things I would never forget about that day.

Once I had escaped from my house, I called up some of the boys I knew from school. Out of five, two said they could come. I knew that one of them, right now, was doing his homework, while the others were probably already into something mischievous.

I hid by the park, our usual spot, waiting for their arrival. I could hear them before I saw them, loud with laughter. I wasn't worried though, it was late in the evening and with the announcement for people to stay indoors - I wasn't surprised that we were alone. Still, their behavior caused me to glance around, with noise like that it could attract unwanted attention.

"Come on, guys, cut it out." I said, stepping out from behind the bushes.

They were wearing their red bandanas. I had mine wrapped around my left arm.

"I doubt there is anything to worry about, Claire," Refford said, smiley. He was the youngest of us, but confident, a boney fellow with wild hair. I just called him Reff. The other boy, Ward, was like a brother to him - older, but more serious. He was watching me, as if he knew what I was going to say.

"Isn't your dad with the Corps too?" I said blatantly, "I think there's a lot to worry about."

Ward nudged Reff, his own way of cheering him up without saying anything. Reff rubbed the back of his neck, his confidence not as clear now, "Sure, Claire. I understand. Sorry. I just..."

"We try and forget, right?" Ward finished.

We all nodded. Silent understanding.

"So, how are we going to do this?" I asked, ready to go.

"Look who's the troublemaker," Reff chipped in, winking in my direction.

"Look who's with the troublemaker," I added nonchalantly.

Reff chuckled as Ward chimed in, "I figure we'd take the tunnels. I hear most of the activity is in the plaza and the surrounding streets. I bet that's where both your dads are. We can sneak in through the back, cut through most of security that way. We'll pop up near the Flower Shop." He showed us his binoculars, "We'll head to the second floor and you can keep an eye on him that way."

"And you aren't with Corps because?" I teased.

"Army life isn't my style. I just want to be a mechanic." He said, grinning, "Reff's going to be my business partner." The two of them bumped fists and we set off.

And that was how I ended up here, in the tunnels, where Bodhum's waste goes, which travels and connects to other tunnels, which ends up...I don't know and I think I don't want to know. Right now, I was only focusing to get as far as Bodhum's plaza. We had entered through a station located on the outskirts of Bodhum, through a large pipe. It had been locked down and evacuated thanks to the scare tactic of that lovely report, so it was easy to infiltrate. Instantly I knew that I would never forget the smell.

We kept mainly to the side, hugging the cement and metal to avoid straying into the gunk that was being filtered through. I could only pray that it didn't take very long for Ward to lead us to the rear of the plaza. My pink hair was darkening as I sweated, feeling as though the grime wasn't just on my shoes, but all over my skin in thin layers.

"How much farther?" I asked, getting impatient. I wanted to see dad, wanted to make sure he was okay.

"Not much further," Ward said. He had that encouraging voice, knowing of my growing frustration.

Reff started to add his own two cents in, "I'm surprised," He said, watching as I checked my hand. I felt as though I had touched something gross. Was it just me, or were the pipes closing in on us? I heard something and whisked around, inspecting the area behind me.

"Surprised about what?" I grumbled.

"You're really acting like a girl," He teased me again, acting as though he'd push me into the nasty water below.

I waved him off, making a motion for him to hurry up. He only laughed, making another playful remark that I couldn't hear for I was focusing on something else. That same noise I heard earlier, but it sounded closer.

"You hear that?" I asked, freezing in my tracks.

"You're paranoid, Claire," Reff said, giving a shrug.

A scraping, sloshing sound.

"There it is again," I insisted, my nerves started to burn.

This time Ward stopped, "I hear it." Reff halted with him, turning to look behind with both of us.

"What is it?" Reff asked, curiosity driving him forward. I, however, stopped him. This couldn't be a good thing.

"What do you think, Ward?"

"Didn't you read your history books in class?" Ward chatted, bemused.

"Not as much as you," I said.

Ward started to back up, reaching forward to tug at Reff's left arm, "I don't know. There shouldn't be anyone down here..." His face was concentrated, as though he were filing through his thoughts, "Unless..."

I started to back up along with them, "Unless?"

"It's the Cleaners!" Ward yelled, taking off down the pipe.

"Cleaners?" Reff exclaimed, yelping at Ward's sudden rough pull on his arm, "Are we supposed to be afraid of that? Sounds like another version of janitor!"

Cleaners. Now I knew where I had read of them. Chapter Eleven of the book "Bodhum: A Seaside Paradise". It dealt with the establishment of Bodhum's security and inventions that helped make it what it was today.

The Cleaners were a type of security, but mainly helped with the continual output of garbage. It was a creature, supposedly developed by the Fal'Cie Eden, after meetings of what to do with developing waste. It was simple. The Cleaners. They devoured everything in front of them, what better way of 'taking out the trash'? It was discouraged, even for management to head down below, but now we were in front of this thing. How could we have forgotten? Was this a case of not paying attention in class?

It made eerie grunting, hissing noises, the sound of sucking liquid. I didn't want to look back as I raced forward, my legs burning, my lungs screaming at me for air, but I looked anyway. I suppose I was too curious like Reff, maybe I wanted to see what I was up against.

It was a bizarre creature, more wide than tall, a mutant mixture of gator and toad with an elongated snout full of teeth, a vacuum nozzle which it used to eat everything, not before plowing through it with its claws. I couldn't tell whether it slithered or stomped, but regardless, it was neither silent or loud. It only pushed the murky water forward, splashing, as it grunted, creating a fearsome whirlpool under its girth.

"Run! Keep running! I see the opening! We can take that ladder!" Ward shouted up ahead, "Claire, hurry!"

Ward made no mention of the blonde-headed woman up ahead, clad in armor, fitted with a gun hoister and a scabbard. I suppose we were all in very much a hurry. Ward immediately begin to head up the metal ladder with Reff right behind him. She never attempted to stop us, or ask us what we were doing, she only saw me and the Cleaner following close behind.

She smiled at me with a surprised look, even with a glint of awe. She stepped past me, or rather, I ran past her, heading up the ladder with reckless abandon, all thought fleeing from my terrorized head. I wanted to stop, to see if she was going to be all right, to shout at her to follow. Only for a split second was I able to spot her drawing her sword. Was she crazy? Who was she?

I could only breathe heavily, as my knees buckled beneath me when we reached the top. Reff lay on the ground while Ward leaned against a sign post, all of us weary from action.

In between breaths, I succeeded in asking, "Who was...that girl?"

"I...don't know," Reff said, trying to elaborate, "She was crazy...that much I could tell. But we're...alive, somehow..."

Ward had gained his stamina back faster than we did, for he helped me up, "That was PISCOM armor."


	3. Blinding Flash

Part I of III

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Chapter 3

* * *

PISCOM armor. But how was that possible?

"Why would a soldier go off by herself?" I pondered out loud. I doubted it. Why would a soldier even consider going one on one with a nasty creature like that?

"Maybe she wasn't alone. Maybe. It doesn't matter," Ward concluded. He crossed his arms. Reff stretched, no doubt, his legs were sore.

"I don't get it. She looked our age, maybe a couple years older." I wiped my forehead, frowning at the thought and at the stink that had rubbed off on us. Once this was over, we would have to hurry home. I didn't want to get caught by dad, answer any questions of my whereabouts. I know mother wouldn't worry too much, I had made it a habit of visiting the arcade in the evenings from time to time, so she would think...no, I debated back in my head, the announcement. I had put myself in quite a position.

"Look, Claire, who cares about that? Our dads are out there," Reff protested; he got into a determined stance, bringing his thumb to his chest, "There's only been me and my paw and I don't wanna lose him."

Ward tapped his shoulder.

"Of course, how could I forget you?" Reff said, smiling. I caught him turning to look at me out of the corner of my eyes, but my peripheral was quickly blurring, as I stared dimly into space. Home. Should I go back?

"Don't you back down now," Reff growled, surprising Ward. He was a pretty passionate thirteen year old, "You brought up the idea, we're here, let's finish it." He raised his fist at me, "Some things you just do, even if you get in trouble for it."

It was a tad irritating, but his resolve was empowering and encouraging. To be honest, I was impressed. I always thought of Reff as an annoying figure in our group, Ward was the one who we all looked up too, but tonight I had a newfound respect for the little guy. I raised my arm and Reff took a step back, obviously he thought I had something to say, something not very pleasant. Surely I wasn't that mean? I mean, everyone at school didn't take me for serious.

I extended my arm, clenching my hand into a fist and held it there, "I'm ready."

Ward's eyes gleamed, but Reff looked confused and a little shocked. He didn't know what to do, he let out a stutter. I admit it, I didn't give much attention to the kid at school.

Ward elbowed him, "She wants you to bump fists, like we do. Right, Claire?" He asked, grinning.

"R-right."

Reff immediately got excited and stepped forward. He brought his arm up, made a fist, and knocked it against mine, "I'm ready too." I gave a short smile.

"The Flower Shop is over there. Follow me," Ward said, taking a head start. He waved at us, directing us to follow. 

The sounds of battle were soon heard as we approached the battered store. The streets were starting to take a pockmarked look, debris heavy in the distance. Yells and roars filled the air. We carefully hid behind the back of shop, as Ward began digging through his backpack for something. I stuck my head out, nervous, noticing all the fallen flower carts with torn plants and ferns.

"Whatever you're looking for, Ward, make it fast," I said, biting my lip, as I heard bullets zip past making me duck behind the wall again.

"Cursed Pulse monsters..." I heard Reff mumble.

"Found it!" Ward exclaimed, flashing a chain that held multiple keys. He instantly began to fumble through them, trying to find the one that unlocked the back door.

"Just kick it down," Reff said, shrugging.

I peeked out again, shivers running down my spine as a feral four-legged beast caught sight of me off in the distance. It sniffed around before slowly treading forward. It probably caught the scent of sewer funk, an unusual smell I thought that could drift in-and-out of a battlefield.

"Uh, Ward..."

Ward cursed under his breath.

"You mind speeding that up?"

"Don't rush me," He let out a hiss. His hands were shaking really bad, a side-effect he hated when he got worked up, especially when things were on the line.

Reff watched the fear in my eyes get bigger and he stepped out from behind me, he too, got a large lump in his throat. His unnatural calmness becoming perturbed.

"Hey bro," Reff said through his teeth, "I don't want to ruin your nirvana, but there's a monster coming that's about to crash the party."

Ward's eyes widened and he desperately started tearing through the keys. Reff and I quickly bolted behind the wall again, running swiftly to Ward's side. I looked around quickly, trying to spot anything that could fend off a intruder, a clawed and fanged intruder. Reff had already picked up a board and a hunk of cement.

"Got it," Ward spat, sticking the key into the slot just as the beastie turned the corner, growling at all three of us with flaming eyes. We fumbled inside, as Ward locked the door, securing it. The creature howled, tearing at the door, furious at its lost prey.

It was another close encounter. Two strikes of luck, could we manage a third one?

"Ward, how you'd get the keys?" I asked, my body trembling from exertion and adrenaline, "Another one of your odd jobs?"

"Yeah. The lady's real nice...she's fond of pink." He was aware of the odd looks we were giving the place, with its pink floral wallpaper and pink and red granite for floor tiles.

"Oh," Was the only thing I could think of. Reff had a look mimicking what I was thinking of. It was like stepping into cotton candy land, but there was a feeling of security here, of innocence, despite the clashing outside. I knew not to push our fortune though, nothing was fully safe.

Ward was heading towards some stairs to the left of Reff and I, which lead to an outside cafe, a place for people to visit and relax. It included a balcony too, all-in-all, a quiet, secluded little joint. I hated to admit it, but despite the irony of coming here, after this craziness died down...I wanted to visit with Ward and the others.

Ward got down, kneeling by the balcony, hiding behind some foliage that had grown, entwined, around the pillars and railing, falling from the ledge. We knelt beside him as he took out his binoculars, "Here's where the trouble starts..." He murmured, putting them in my hands, "Find your father, you got a good shot of the plaza. He's got to be in there."

I nodded, placing the covers over my eyes. It emitted beeping sounds as I zoomed in, a crisp, clear picture no matter how far I took it. There were many PISCOM soldiers, even some civilians amongst the fighting, but I knew who were or who weren't Guardian Corps infantrymen. I studied the battlefield, straining my eyes to catch a glimpse of my father.

After a nerve-racking twenty minutes, I finally found him. He was okay, no, he was more than okay. He was cleaving through hordes of monsters with strength and poise, giving orders, motivating his men with shouts of encouragement. His squad followed him gallantly, blades raised to strike.

My father fired round after round of magnum bullets, swinging his sword all the while; the recoil sending sparks of light, which bounced off his silver blade making the rays stand out more than ever. It was like lightning dancing. It was amazing, spectacular, I'd had never seen my father do battle before and right then and there I wished I could have seen it earlier.

Dad had always been fairly proud of his family's lineage. He came from a strong background of warriors, who dedicated themselves to protecting their towns, villages, way before PISCOM existed. Before the Corps formed they were simply called Knights, those who (were compelled to) fight for Cocoon. Farron being the most renowned of these.

Dad said he used to rebel against this Farron idea, this looming shadow, a pressure he felt hovered over him, until one day, he took it up around the time he met mother. His father taught him the tricks of the trade and the rest is history.

Something moved inside me, something I'd never felt before, it was calling me, a faded dream.

"Hey," Ward said, his voice spooked me. I had been so lost in thought, it seemed out of place, "Are you okay?"

I was out of touch, trying to reach for that feeling again; contrasting with the raging battle outside, only my father was in the spotlight.

"Yeah." I handed the binoculars to Reff, who seized them with urgency, as he looked for his dad.


	4. The Blonde and the A Bomb

Author's Note: A lot of stuff goes on in this chapter. Golly gee.

* * *

Part 1 of III

* * *

Chapter 4

* * *

I had a craving. Past the blood and rage of the battlefield, there was only my father. I felt a tinge of shame at only thinking of him and my desire. I wanted to be him. I wanted to know what it was like to be admired, respected, beloved, and powerful. I had heard stories of the affection the citizens of Bodhum bestowed upon him. He often did little things, things that went out of the way of his normal duties: saving a cat stuck in a tree, delivering a package when no one else could. I only ever thought about it now, how deserving he was. I wanted a taste of this and cursed my lazy attitude.

Reff was restless, wiping his lips as he trembled, worried over his own father. Searching for him, he zipped the binoculars back and forth over and over. Ward reassured him, told him to calm down, that he would find him. I nodded absently, feeling ashamed, hoping he'd find him.

He did, but it wasn't comforting.

His father was wounded, a harsh blow dealt to his chest, he was bleeding heavily. He was being treated by medical personnel as the turbulence swirled around them. There were Guardian Corps soldiers trying to protect them, but they were not faring too well. Reff was indignant and scared, a terrified look overtaking his face. It almost scared me, seeing him like this. He was wild and in a surreal moment, he nearly leaped from the balcony, tears filling his eyes. Ward stopped him, slapped him, attempting to settle him down, but he would not listen.

"My paw's the only one I got! I won't lose him!" He swung savagely, trying to twist him way out of Ward's grasp. He narrowly missed socking him in the cheek. He finally tore his way out, rushing down the stairs, Ward chasing him.

I followed them, leaving behind Ward's binoculars, it wasn't important at the time. Down on floor level, I realized that in Reff's haste he had opened, or rather, smashed through the door that Ward had sealed. There was a little blood on the ground, a short distance away a corpse of a four-legged beast lay on the ground. Reff was really...desperate, adrenaline was probably pumping through him like a train. I reassured myself that Ward must have helped him fight off the creature; I just couldn't picture a boy like that tearing through such a monster by himself.

At the same time, as I ran to catch up, I thought what kind of relationship Reff must have with his father. Their bond must be strong with such a dedicated sense of loyalty and love. I too, could understand a little of the boy's feelings, but could I really fly off into a vehement display of duty towards him? Could I? Could I for anyone? I didn't want to think about it.

I stopped nearby the Flower Shop, teetering on the edge of the battlefield, a surge of fear swept through my body, preventing me from truly entering. I could see Ward and Reff, they had made it through somehow. I could see Reff's determination, he was, in a way, unstoppable. Ward protected him with all his might, both of them struggled through, not without some of the soldiers help. I wondered what they must be thinking, seeing young kids in such a crazy time and place.

I wanted to get there, I wanted to.

"Some things you just do!" A reminder of Reff's passionate outcry. This thirteen year old exceeded me in all ways. No, I could do it too. I took a step forward.

"Need some help?"

I turned around, shocked at what I saw.

It was that same blonde headed girl from before with PSICOM armor and all, a short black cape dangled behind her from metal clips embedded in the shoulder pads. She gave me that same smile from before.

"Who are you?"

"That's not an important question at the moment, missy," She swung her sword in circles, "I saw your friends take off, you're worried, do you need help?"

"Yes." I said, serious.

She gawked at me, impressed, "Good. Stay close behind me, better yet..." She took hold of my hand, it was a rough and raw hand, tough, a hand that told of countless hours of training. She charged through and I held my breath. I could feel the monsters' breath near me at all times, but one by one they all fell to her blade. She was quick and able, striking with absurd precision, all while holding on to my hand. There were a few times she let go, but she always returned, leading me through. She mocked the beasts, each time that stupid smile plastered on her face, like she was enjoying it. It was a different smile, a complex one, one of satisfaction and yet...there was a sadness there, a deep, perpetual sadness. I couldn't make it out, I didn't understand at the time. A smile of self-destruction.

We made it through. We were dirty, a little bloodied, but safe. She told me to head on over to where my friends' were, that she would help the Guardian Corps in their defensive efforts. I was sure with her on their side, she would contribute greatly and help even them out. I was in awe of her, but I had more pressing matters on my mind, my father far in the back of my mind at this point in time.

* * *

Reff was crying hysterically, the medical officers attempting to placate him, but it was failing. His father was pale in the face, slipping in and out of unconsciousness. Ward felt helpless, watching to the side of him with a grim look. He let him cry and rage, fumbling with the "I love you's" and "don't leave me". Claire bit her lip, unsure of what to do or what to say. She too, fell silent on the tragic scene.

Off in the distance, a PSICOM warship approached, turrets firing upon the combat zone, taking out monsters and some soldiers alike as they were generally closed in, unable to spread out very far as the streets were narrow and the plaza not very large.

The blonde girl screamed loudly, furious, "Captain, tell them not to fire! My men are getting slaughtered along with these animals! I thought we had an agreement!" She waved her arms.

A burly man with a stern face and a coat decked with metals, quickly whipped out a slim device, opening it and speaking into it. The turrets stopped firing immediately and the warship, which hovered over the battlefield, began to land. The back of it turned to face the forefront of the battleground, opening its wide metal door to reveal two PSICOM soldiers in heavy armor holding a masked prisoner.

Once the airship had landed, they quickly took off, pushing the prisoner along roughly. The warship promptly took off again with their departure, flying around the combat zone, awaiting for future orders.

Claire watched as blonde girl left the few Guardian Corps soldiers situated around them, and suddenly she felt naked, like a hole had been punctured, even a few of the Corps soldiers shared nervous looks with each other as she had raised their hopes of making it through with her skill and sadistic valor.

The blonde strode towards the new arrivals and they saluted her. She waved other PSICOM men to approach, even the Captain joined, none too pleased.

He attempted to provoke her, instigating a cold look from her, "This had better work, this idea of yours." He paused, crossing his arms, "You know, I just received a call, saying that you had beheaded one of the Cleaners down in the tunnels." His voice rose in pitch at his disapproval, "They are placid and would not attack anyone unless he or she gave off antagonistic behavior. Do you know how much a Cleaner costs? It is coming out of your paycheck, Lt. Nabaat!"

She shrugged, "It was just a hapless critter who got in my way, do whatever you want, boss." She looked off into the horizon, looking at something unseen, then turned her back on him, speaking with the other PSICOM soldiers.

The Captain was furious, angry at her apparent lack of interest, her apathy at the present on-goings. That disarming, alarming and irritating smile of hers, it revolted him. She would not pay attention to anything he said. He told her to stay down in the tunnels, to search them and see if anyone or anything snuck or broke in and in due time he would call on her, if the battle was still going badly. It was, but regardless, against his orders, here she was, always a blight. Sometimes, he thought, she was in waiting, a monster herself in crouching, preparing for when she would usurp his position.

"Now, prepare the ethers," She said, "And on my signal, you know what to do."

The men nodded, taking from their many pouches a number of blue bottles, small in size. White robed PSICOM men, apparently their own medical staff, passed among them hypodermic needles.

The prisoner, who had not uttered a word in the entirely of this moment, started to quiver, an unnoticeable small shake, minuscule unless examined closely.

Nabaat came close to the detainee, who up until now, had been chained. She gave another one of her Mona Lisa smiles, "You know what to do, right? If you don't, this mission will probably be a critical failure and many lives will be endangered. Do you want that?"

There was no response, only a slight nod of the head. An understanding, oh so sickening.

"On your order, Captain," Nabaat said, taking a step back, a glare replaced the smile on her face as she looked back at the prisoner, "Remember, you step out of line, we won't grant you the privilege of seeing your friends."

"Now," He instructed.

The hypodermic needles were dipped into the bottles of ether and injected simultaneously into the prisoner's flesh. There was a harsh cry, as they were not at all gentle in their proceedings. With the overwhelming exposure of the magical properties of ethers all at once, it extended the convict's limits greatly, a thin steam began to rise from his flesh.

"Everyone! Activate your AMD shields now! You have five minutes to take action or you're KIA!" The captain shouted his order several times, his voice growing harsh.

Before the battle, every soldier, Bodhum Guardian Corps Security Regiment and PSICOM alike had been briefed on the operation, including one particular detail in case it got out of hand. For this, they were supplied with one AMD shield each, an Automatic Magical Defense shields. No more, no less; it was crucial to their survival should this route be taken. These AMD shields would last for fifteen minutes, five used for preparation, ten for the takedown.

Every soldier on the field readied their shield, aglow with luminous purple light. The magic for the most part, managed to stun some of the monsters, but there were many others still who had to ward off the angry, and now confused Pulse creatures.

Reff's father had one such AMD shield, but he did not use it, he was dying and he knew it. He was prepared, but what he wasn't ready for, was for his son to die.

"Refford," He called, blood draining from between his pale lips, "Take this, press the button and you'll be okay."

"No, father, you take it," Reff said, his shoulders heaving from sporadic breaths.

"Do as I say," His father said more firmly now, pushing the device into his son's hands.

"My friends...what of my friends?" Reff looked to Ward, to Claire, who looked worse for wear now.

A voice interrupted their last intimate moment together, "I have two of them." It was the blonde Lieutenant, she had approached them, watching with envious eyes. She tossed them in her hand without a care, small things that held life or death for Claire and Ward. For Claire, she held the world in her hands. She watched the blonde with heavy and forlorn eyes.

The Lieutenant handed one to Ward, and then to Claire, watching her take it with ravenous gratitude, something Nabaat enjoyed. She quickly instructed them on their use, all three of them activating them together. It hummed to life, shimmering around them, static playing along the skin. Nabaat watched Reff look at his father, holding his hands as he slowly passed away. Claire watched his once energetic eyes empty into lackluster pebbles. Nabaat touched and played with the third AMP device silently, tucked away in her pocket with a biting satisfaction.

What happened next haunted Claire.

The prisoner unleashed a fury of untamed magics, whistling through the air, ripping apart the multitude of creatures and those without protection. She watched as Reff's father melted away particle by particle, streaming through his fingertips and evaporating into the air. Reff looked horrified.

Claire wanted to look into this guy's face, he, who dared wield such terrible power at the agreement of PSICOM. She wanted to see if this man, this inhuman thing enjoyed it, direct her fear and hate at something, but she could not see his face for it was hidden.

After it was over, the prisoner slumped to their ground, exhausted, looking unhealthier than usual. The monsters that were left over were taken out, the AMP shields stuttering and fading away. Claire and Ward stood in the same place, quiet.

The PSICOM soldiers forcibly began to drag the detainee back to the landing airship. The prisoner's head turned towards the younger audience among them. Claire noticed this, feeling a mixture of disgust and slight gratification. So, he had noticed.

There was a yell.

Claire turned and saw her father charging towards them, he was enraged, but why? The battle was over. He started to fend off the PISCOM men, protecting the prisoner from their harsh treatment.

The blonde started towards him, "What is the matter?" She seemed surprised and delighted.

"You can't treat people like this, like dogs to be used!"

"State your name and rank, soldier," Nabaat insisted.

"I'm Serge Farron with Guardian Corps, Lt. Colonel," He stated with fierce eyes, "Give me yours."

"Ah, one of the Farrons. I am Jihl Nabaat with PSICOM, Lieutenant First Class. I am sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Farron, but regardless of what you think of our methods, we won the battle."

Serge was not too pleased with her teasing attitude, "How old are you, Nabaat?"

"I am seventeen."

Surprise emanated from his features, "Aren't you a little young?"

"Young and proficient, Mr. Farron."

"And ignorant," Serge responded, tightening his grip on the hilt of his gunblade. He wanted to say 'stupid', he wanted to say many things, but stopped himself.

His scalding remark nearly made Nabaat fly into a frenzy, she narrowed his eyes, scrunched up her nose and raised her arms in spite of herself, "You...you...you remind me of my grandfather," She spat. The soldiers watched her nervously, unprepared for this boiling fury. She had not erupted yet, but she was close.

"Maybe you should listen to him, he and I share the same thought," Serge rebutted, containing his anger, he stepped closer to the prisoner, but she stood between him, preventing further progress. She was looking for a fight. Serge was done with fighting for the night.

"I assure you, Mr. Farron...you do not want to be associated with my grandfather," Nabaat said, biting her tongue as Claire approached.

"Daddy?" She reached for his arm, but he snatched it away, still staring Nabaat down for answers.

Nabaat's eyebrows rose at the mention of 'daddy', she switched between viewing the girl and her father until finally coming to rest on Serge, "In due time, Mr. Farron, I can promise you I will have your respect."

Serge laid down his arms, watching as Nabaat and her men, including the prisoner departed into the waiting airship. He had lost that battle tonight, but really he felt like he had won nothing at all.

As Nabaat and PISCOM started piled into the huge warship, she spotted a man who stood nearby and suddenly remembered to thank him. He was sullen with dark hair, a young man barely of mid-twenties. She pulled him aside, handed him a coin purse filled with money and started to leave when he asked her, "When can I see my daughter?"

"Mr. Amodar, your daughter is in our care, remember? She provides valuable information and we, in turn, are constantly searching our databases for any cure." She lessened her tone of voice, and said, "If it were not for your daughter, we would have not been as prepared for this attack, so, let me be the first to thank you for allowing us this privilege. If you want to see her, please call so we can prepare an adequate appointment for you."


End file.
